Chapter 22 – Sister… (Female Lead’s Dark Childhood)

Lu Qian felt a sudden daze, as though in an instant she had been dragged back to the rear courtyard of the old Lu residence—always filled with the noisy clamor of women.

She had never considered herself a complete transmigrator. Unlike the usual stories, the first fifteen years of her life weren’t merely the original body’s memories to her. On the contrary, from the moment she opened her eyes and saw the thatched roof overhead, she clearly remembered the small brocade-curtained bed from her childhood, steeped in the scent of sandalwood, and the endless parade of aunts and concubines vying daily to coax and deceive her.

The legitimate mistress of the Lu household had long since passed away. The concubine who gave birth to “the son” Lu Qian had gone into premature labor at only seven months and died without ever seeing her own child. Naturally, the only “little young master” left without a mother became the fattest piece of meat in the eyes of every woman in the inner quarters—each one eager to take a bite.

To outsiders, the Lu family’s “little young master” naturally lived a life of luxury and envy. But no one ever asked the child drowning in rouge and powder whether she was actually happy.

Lu Qian was not happy. Children may not understand scheming and intrigue, but they instinctively know when someone is faking a smile. Not one of the seventeen women who coaxed her to call them “Mother” truly liked her. And she didn’t like the way her chronically bedridden father looked at her either—that gaze treated her not as a person, but as some treasure he had dug three feet underground and finally unearthed. He had to stare at her every day, checking first thing in the morning to make sure no corner was missing.

Lu Qian disliked living in the same room as her father. She disliked being forced to drink bowl after bowl of fragrant ash water every day. Most of all she disliked being surrounded by those concubines. Yet the Lu family’s rear courtyard was simply too large—and still they filled every inch of it. No matter where she hid, her ears were assaulted by endless chattering and squabbling. Only one voice among all that noise ever brought her any peace during the day:

“Thirteenth Lang.”

That was the twelfth daughter of Lu yuanwai—the only one of Lu Qian’s older sisters still unmarried at the time of her birth. The girl named Lu Xuan was more than eleven years her senior. From childhood she had been gentle, kind, and quiet. She genuinely liked Lu Qian—not as a future support, not as a lifesaving straw, but simply as her little sibling. She made Lu Qian all kinds of delicious pastries, listened patiently when she complained that a certain concubine’s perfume was too overpowering, and even let Lu Qian secretly pick flowers or grass to wear in her hair—without scolding her for “losing her manly spirit” the way her father and the old steward did.

In the eyes of the young Lu Qian, her sister’s small courtyard was a paradise on earth. Every afternoon slipping away to nestle in her sister’s arms and nap there was her happiest time. Unfortunately those days ended at age six. After finally having a “son,” Lu yuanwai promptly married off his youngest daughter. The family her twelfth sister was betrothed to was a major household three hundred li away. They had been pressing for the wedding ever since Lu Xuan came of age. If not for Lu Xuan repeatedly delaying because she couldn’t stolen contentbear to leave Lu Qian, the marriage would have happened years earlier. But seventeen was the absolute limit. In the end a grand red bridal sedan still carried Twelfth Sister away.

People say that once a woman marries, she gradually forgets her natal family. Whether Twelfth Sister forgot the Lu household, Lu Qian didn’t know. She only knew three hundred li was a very long distance—far enough that before she turned ten, her sister had only come back once. Far enough that after she turned ten and the Lu family fell into ruin, there was never another word from her sister’s side.

Now, hearing Lu Xuan stand outside the canopy calling her name, Lu Qian felt as though a lifetime had passed. After waking from the lake she had been busy fighting the Lu clan, subduing the villagers, opening her shop, and building her business. She had never once thought to seek out the living relatives she still had.

In her view, those people had abandoned her years ago. After clawing her way out of the mud herself, there was no need to reestablish ties with them. It would only be mutual hypocrisy—forced proximity that bred nothing but disgust.

Yet that single call of “Thirteenth Lang” suddenly stirred ripples across the calm lake of her heart. Lu Qian’s eyes tightened slightly. She wanted to ask why her sister—who had married into a distant household—was here now. She wanted to ask why, if her husband’s family was so prominent, her sister was dressed so poorly. She even wanted to ask how, after all these years and after she had resumed women’s clothing and been erased from the clan genealogy, her sister could still recognize her.

But in the end Lu Qian only pressed her lips together and said softly:

“Sister…”

Jiang Xiyue—who had just been helped upright—heard the word “sister” and her eyes widened. Her gaze darted back and forth between the visibly shaken Lu Qian and the haggard woman. After the initial shock she suddenly burst into laughter: “Hahahaha, Lu Qian, oh Lu Qian! Everyone outside praises you as some great benevolent saint—building shelters, giving alms? Turns out you’d rather throw silver at beggars than spare a single bowl of rice for your own flesh and blood. That woman is your sister, right? How come she looks half-starved to death? Tsk tsk tsk, so thin and pale…”

Jiang Xiyue laughed until tears sparkled in her eyes. She dabbed the corners with her handkerchief. Yet no matter how long she spoke, Lu Qian acted as though she hadn’t heard a word. The woman, however—seeing the gorgeously dressed nobles inside the canopy—suddenly shrank in shame and tried to lower her head. Still, she persisted in looking at Lu Qian: “Thirteenth Lang…”

Lu Qian cut her off: “I have already resumed [stolen content]my female identity. My name has been erased from the clan genealogy. I am no longer ‘Thirteenth Lang.’”

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Author’s Note:

Lu Qian is actually considered to have regained her memories of her previous modern life due to a sudden accident—so the childhood Lu Qian was still herself.